Unfortunately due to the death of net neutrality, you find wherever you host your repository, there's more latency and network dropouts, and if you want to share your code only users with "Full Access" tiers at their ISP can view it - all the poor people on the cheap "Basics" accounts are stuck with a generic set of "Inclusions" which don't include your personal hosting choices.
Dejected, you try and start a grass roots movement to open up the internet again, but due to the illegality of encryption the algorithms know and detect the subtle shifts in your social graph and semantic changes in demeanour. Late one evening, you hear a knock on your door. No one is there when you answer it, but you look down to see a small paper envelope. A quaint anachronism.
Inside are photos of your friends and family at home, at work, dropping their kids at school. You turn to the last photo and it's a frame from a webcam - your webcam. A small picture-in-picture overlay shows a particularly disturbing frame from an illegal porno. You don't recognise it, and you were always careful to cover up your camera for "personal" time, so you suspect a deep fake.
Your phone vibrates. A notification from the bank: "Your account is overdrawn." Your life savings are gone. Your phone vibrates again. This time it's a message. "This is your only warning. If you continue to fight the system, it will destroy you." You swipe to see who sent the message, but suddenly the screen goes black and your phone refuses to reboot.
The sun is coming up now. A flock of android sheep swoop through the air, bleating electronically. You drop the envelope and its contents in the nearest recycling bin, step to the edge of your cloud-home, and cast your body to the mercy of the under-dwellers far below.
Dejected, you try and start a grass roots movement to open up the internet again, but due to the illegality of encryption the algorithms know and detect the subtle shifts in your social graph and semantic changes in demeanour. Late one evening, you hear a knock on your door. No one is there when you answer it, but you look down to see a small paper envelope. A quaint anachronism.
Inside are photos of your friends and family at home, at work, dropping their kids at school. You turn to the last photo and it's a frame from a webcam - your webcam. A small picture-in-picture overlay shows a particularly disturbing frame from an illegal porno. You don't recognise it, and you were always careful to cover up your camera for "personal" time, so you suspect a deep fake.
Your phone vibrates. A notification from the bank: "Your account is overdrawn." Your life savings are gone. Your phone vibrates again. This time it's a message. "This is your only warning. If you continue to fight the system, it will destroy you." You swipe to see who sent the message, but suddenly the screen goes black and your phone refuses to reboot.
The sun is coming up now. A flock of android sheep swoop through the air, bleating electronically. You drop the envelope and its contents in the nearest recycling bin, step to the edge of your cloud-home, and cast your body to the mercy of the under-dwellers far below.